Mentalist Episode Tag: Nothing But Blue Skies, 7x1
by Donnamour1969
Summary: PART II NOW POSTED! Lisbon and Jane contemplate their new relationship. Tag/missing scenes/pre-episode all in one. SPOILERS. If you haven't seen 7x1, you may not want to read this yet. Rated T for adult themes and mild language.
1. Part I: Lisbon

A/N: I was pleasantly surprised that we got to see the first episode early, thanks to its early release in Canada last night. Thank God for the internet. (I saw it on WatchSeries dot ag). I was both insanely gratified and disappointed by this episode. First, the disappointments: The case was boring, in my opinion. I wasn't impressed with Agent Vega. **There was no kissing.** Then again, all the Jisbon moments, especially the "key" scene, the origami swan, Jane's over protectiveness with Lisbon toward the FBI guy, the final scene—made me swoon with delight. But still, there could have been at least a kiss—even on the cheek, for crying out loud!

Okay, end of rant. Here, I will try to explain the sometimes painful awkwardness as these two damaged people attempt to forge a new relationship.

**Episode Tag: Nothing But Blue Skies, 7x1**

Two weeks later, and it was still awkward, thought Lisbon morosely.

_Two weeks._

They'd been friends for more than a decade, you would think it would be easy to transition to a romantic relationship, a natural progression.

But it hadn't been.

Outside of the bedroom, they were still friends. They joked and laughed. They bickered and bantered. But it was not the same, and a strange discomfiture pervaded their interactions now, an unusual tentativeness almost verging on fear.

She didn't know whether it was her or Jane at the heart of it. She suspected it was both, but for different reasons they had yet to either fathom or admit to themselves.

_Inside_ the bedroom, on the other hand, the awkwardness faded away. It was as if once he removed his old, familiar suit, Jane became a different man. He made love to her with a passion she had never known before, giving her sensual fulfillment she only thought possible in novels. It was wildly emotional too, cathartic even—especially that first time. Afterward, he had held her tightly to his body, whispering his love for her as he nuzzled his tear-stained face into her hair.

They'd spent a glorious week in Florida, Jane having been given two weeks suspension for his hijinks at the airport; Lisbon given two weeks leave to get her life back together and move back into her house in Austin. She thought often of that day after she picked him up from the TSA detention office…

"So," he'd said reluctantly in the rental car as they drove back into Miami. "I suppose we should talk about what happened back there."

Her eyes flitted briefly over to him on the passenger's side where he sat, shifting his injured, sock-clad foot uncomfortably. They had kissed, and it had been sweet and beautiful and perfect. Her lips still tingled, her face pink with the memory.

"We don't have to," she said, flushing anew. "I mean, I'm still trying to process everything that happened in the last eighteen hours."

"Yeah," he agreed.

And that had been that.

They'd driven the rest of the way in silence, though Jane had held her hand across the seat, his thumb soothingly massaging her knuckles.

Later that night, after they'd napped and showered in their separate chain hotel rooms, then eaten quietly together in the downstairs restaurant, he'd walked her back to her door.

"Would you like to come in for awhile?" she'd asked, and then she'd smiled a little, while her heart pounded behind her breast. "There's a great mini bar."

"Sure," he'd said. She would never forget how his green eyes had widened, how he had swallowed nervously before replying. He knew what she was offering.

He'd followed her inside.

"Nice room," he'd said. "Looks oddly familiar."

She squatted down by the mini fridge where the small bottles of alcohol were stowed. "What a coincidence," she said wryly. "What would you like to drink? There are the usual suspects—cheap wine, domestic beer—"

"Teresa," he said, and her eyes flew up to his where he still stood uncertainly, just inside the bedroom.

She shut the refrigerator and rose to her full height, her entire body trembling when she saw the sudden determination in his face. Jane closed the distance between them in two long strides, his hands swallowed up by her soft hair as his mouth took hers. There had been none of the hesitant tenderness of their first kiss. This time, there was no restraint at all, and he ravaged her mouth with an intensity that made her legs weak and her pulse deafeningly loud in her ears.

She still couldn't remember how their clothes had disappeared, but she suspected it was Jane's magical sleight-of-hand that had them naked on the queen-size bed in record time. His mouth and hands had been everywhere at once, and she felt loved and cherished and more aroused than she'd ever been in her life. She should have known he would be good at this. The graceful way he moved—his walk, his gestures, the way he held his tea-indicated a man with a complete understanding of his own physicality. That understanding had translated seamlessly into the bedroom, his elegant movements designed to bring them mutual and complete pleasure. He had more than succeeded—_three times_-before she cried mercy and sank into exhaustion, her stomach on the mattress, his breath rasping into the back of her neck.

Their days in Florida were spent taking long walks on the beach where they spoke of unimportant things, ate wonderful food, and made love in their room (he'd cancelled his own after the first day). Lisbon felt sore, sated, and wonderfully in love. She got used to seeing him without his suit jacket, shirtsleeves rolled up along with his trousers, his feet bare. She tried not think of all the years they had wasted, tried not to fear that this would all melt away when they returned to the real world.

It wasn't until they were back in Austin that Jane began wearing his suit jacket again like it was emotional armor. It was as if the Texas sun had brought his fears back into the light, and the closer the end of their two-week's reprieve, the more distant he became. He was preparing himself, but for what? Reality? Disappointment? She couldn't tell. But Lisbon wondered if his change in demeanor was merely reflecting her own misgivings.

Though Jane had reassured her their hiatus from work was completely by design on Abbott's part (their boss had proven to be quite the romantic), she still felt embarrassed at the perception people might have that she'd flitted from one man to the next in so willy-nilly a fashion. And so, while they drank their morning beverages on her front porch a week and a half after their first kiss, after years of being secretly, hopelessly in love with him, she'd asked if they might keep their relationship private. Jane acted as if he didn't want to, but Lisbon also sensed his relief. Acknowledging their new relationship to the outside world made it more…_vulnerable_, more susceptible to the whims of fate and its unknown dangers.

And so the armor.

And so the almost Victorian civility.

Jane ended his call with Abbott and smiled sadly at her.

"Well, this was nice while it lasted."

Her eyebrows shot up and her heart skipped a beat.

Jane sensed her panic immediately, and he set down both their cups and drew her into his arms.

"That's not what I meant," he said, and he squeezed his eyes shut as she slowly relaxed. "I'm not going anywhere. At least, not until you finally wise up and kick me out."

She didn't laugh. Her arms tightened around him, and she blinked back tears, her face in his neck as she inhaled the scent of her own soap.

She heard him sigh deeply, felt his kiss on the top of her head. "I'm not going anywhere," he said again. "I just don't want to share you with anybody yet."

She smiled then, and she was sure he felt it against the warm skin above his collar.

"So my plan is a good one," she said.

"I suppose. But the way you look at me will give it away in no time."

She pulled back in feigned offense. "What about the way _you_ look at me?"

His face was all innocence, except of course for the worshipful gleam in his eyes. She blushed.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said. "I'm a master of deception, remember?"

She thought about the way he'd awakened her that morning. "Among other things," she said suggestively, and his eyes grew dark.

"We're going to be late our first day back," he said matter-of-factly.

"Hmm," she said, her tongue sneaking out to lick the foam her cappuccino had left above her lip. But she wasn't protesting the delay. Abbott, the case, the whole world could wait just a little while longer.

She looked into his eyes, his golden head framed by the blue sky above.

As he leaned in closer, his face blotting out the sun, there was no awkwardness at all.

**A/N: I'm still not getting the lack of kissing, though I suspect it has a lot to do with the real life friendship of Robin and Simon. How awkward would it be, kissing a married friend, even though you are both consummate professionals? Just my instinct, of course. I hope things heat up soon, though, but I will continue to enjoy their sweet moments too. I'm just so glad we got this season, and their love is truly canon now!**


	2. Part II: Jane

A/N: Thank you for the great response to Part I of this tag. I know some people disagreed with me on the no kissing thing, but that's okay. It didn't mean I hated the episode. As I've said, I loved all the Jisbon; indeed, I'm overwhelmingly grateful for it. I guess I'm just being greedy because I have high hopes for even more. Anyway, I'm so used to writing Jane's perspective on things, that I felt the need to add this second part. It is a little more morose, but I believe that is Jane's underlying nature given his past, though he certainly appears very much in love and happy with Lisbon. Despite that, I sensed a real fear in him in this episode, like it might all be taken away from him at any time. I focused on that here.

**Part II: Jane**

Jane felt his stomach clench when Lisbon casually offered to give him a key to her house.

"That would be a step," he said after a beat, a moment he'd needed to calm his swirling mind and pounding heart.

His reply had been an understatement. In fact, it was a step for Jane as big as stepping off into the Grand Canyon. (Definitely a loo-loo.) He actually felt for a second like he was falling. This was a level of commitment he didn't think he'd ever reach again, not with any woman. It had only been in his wildest dreams that such a woman could be Lisbon.

She trusted him with her house, with her life. Hell, he wasn't even sure he could trust himself, that he could trust _this_. Life was so tenuous, so fragile. He'd talked a good game on that plane nearly two weeks before, but had he really considered the consequences of admitting his feelings? The possibility of her leaving him forever had been too much for him to bear, so he had confessed his love in front of a plane-full of people. It had been selfish and risky on his part, subjecting her to the bad luck that had cursed every close personal relationship he'd ever had. Not that he believed in curses, not really, but had it been fair for him to offer himself to her like that, knowing that to choose him over Pike meant giving up a life of security and a unambiguous future?

Offering him that key should have made him feel closer to her. Pike would have felt that way, he thought bitterly. Instead, he felt himself close himself off even more, like a Victorian miss fastening that last button at her throat.

In Florida, he'd allowed himself to forget who he was, had been so caught up in the wonder of it, the wonder of _her_, that he'd neglected to keep his protective walls up. These walls were meant to protect others, not himself. What had he been thinking, putting Lisbon in danger that way?

He remembered walking along Miami Beach with her, openly holding her hand, leaning over now and again to kiss her, just because he could. He'd tried not to think of walking on another beach, on another ocean clear across the country, with another woman he'd loved. He pushed aside the symbolism of it, the inherent momentousness of what he was doing now, with Lisbon. Instead, he'd spoken of a more neutral beach—the one where he'd taken refuge for two years in South America.

"One day, there was a whale beached near the village," he told her. "And all the children of the village tried to push it back into the sea."

"Oh, no," she said, her expressive brows knitting with concern. "It's always so sad to see when whales do that."

"Hmm," Jane said. "Yes."

"And the adults just let them do it? Didn't they even help?"

Jane shook his head. "No. They knew what would happen. Sure, they could get the poor thing back into the water, and maybe it would even swim away. But it would only find another shore where no one would be there to stop it. The old men especially cautioned against trying. _No se puede__luchar contra el destino, _they would say."

Lisbon translated the words in her mind, reaching back to her high school Spanish and her years spent in California. "You can't fight fate?" she said after a moment.

"Exactly."

"I'm not sure I believe that," said Lisbon, ever his little Pollyanna.

"Me neither," said Jane, because he really wanted to think that way. "And so I helped them."

She stopped abruptly, and he took a few steps passed her, stretching his arm a bit since he still held fast to her small hand.

She looked back at him, her eyes bright with love and pride. "You did?"

"Yes," he said, almost shyly.

"That was so sweet of you."

He shrugged, and he hated to disappoint her. "We couldn't move it. It was too heavy. It died there on the beach. Two days later, la policía came with a big boat and dragged the corpse back into the water. The tourists were complaining of the stench."

They resumed their stroll on the sand, both of them quietly contemplative.

"Why didn't you write to me about this?" she asked him after awhile.

"I tried not to share anything that would upset you," he told her.

She moved closer to his side, wrapping her arms around one of his, leaning her head on his shoulder as they walked.

"Well, stop that," she ordered.

Now, on her porch, he couldn't tell her that yes, he would take her key because he was selfish like that, but he could make her no guarantees that this wouldn't end badly. Despite what he'd told her on that beach in Miami, Jane was more of a fatalist than he wanted to admit.

_No se puede__luchar contra el destino._

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hearing that Pike was in Austin had thrown him for a loop to say the least. Here was the Real World Lisbon had mentioned, smacking him in the face lest he forget who he was, who he'd been lucky enough to be with. After Abbott's casual warning, Jane had retreated to the park area near the field office, ostensibly to read the file on their victim, Jeremy Geist, that Agent Vega had procured for him, but really because he'd felt the walls closing in on him, and he'd needed to breathe.

Fate had arrived in the guise of a handsome FBI agent who could (and _had_) offered Lisbon the world. What had Jane offered her? Mind-blowing sex and a finger that still held the wedding ring of his dead wife.

_Shit._

In the relative quiet of the park, he felt the onset of a panic attack. He took several deep breaths, used every trick in his biofeedback arsenal to ward it off, so that when Lisbon found him, he was mostly under control. He saw her at the top of the steps, and pretended to read the report in his hands.

She looked happy to see him, though a little worried about his sudden disappearance. He regretted that immediately. She would always have a fear that he would leave her suddenly, without warning. He supposed she couldn't blame her.

She practically begged him to share what was on his mind, what had brought him outside in the middle of a workday. He apologized with an awkward formality for his secrecy, while in the next breath he lied by omission and told her his findings on Geist. He was too much of a coward to mention Pike, and her good mood suggested she hadn't seen him yet, though he was certain the man wouldn't pass up the opportunity to seek her out eventually.

Jane knew _he _wouldn't have.

Later that day, he caught Pike leaving a note on Lisbon's desk. He felt dread at the sight of him, his formal (and current?) rival bringing back all the uncertainty he'd felt two weeks before in this very office. But part of him—the overly optimistic part-was also hopeful because Pike had apparently missed seeing Lisbon.

He approached the man with trepidation, though he had no right other than to be civil with him. Pike had done nothing wrong. Pike was a good guy. Jane felt he owed him an apology for stealing his girl, so he gave it sincerely, feeling for him because he knew what it was like to lose Teresa Lisbon.

Their conversation was a punch in the gut.

Lisbon liked plans. She wasn't generally impulsive or unpredictable—well, except that one time when she agreed to marry Pike because Jane had pushed her to it, had given her no clear choice.

But what now? Looking at the lovelorn expression on Pike's face, Jane knew with a sinking heart that Lisbon certainly had a clear, well-informed choice now. Jane had told her his true feelings, had given her his heart and his body, just as Pike had done. If she saw Pike again, would she remember what she'd passed up? Would memory of her time with Pike leave Jane wanting?

Too late to stop Fate, Lisbon entered the bullpen, her face stricken to see her former fiancé waiting for her, while her current lover walked away with sweating palms. The walls began to close in again and Jane hovered in the elevator landing, openly listening, that stupid optimism making him stay in case she needed him.

And she had let Pike go again.

_Maybe there really was a God_, he thought, then mentally kicked himself for being so stupid.

He felt sick when he was honest with her minutes later, in the first floor lobby, when he confessed he had no plans for their future. She recovered admirably though, even smiling as she pretended to agree with him that doing what felt right was enough for her. Just as always, she gladly took anything he could give her.

It made him feel like crap. He vowed to be a better man. For her. Because Fate had led her back to him once more.

And then he'd deflected the whole thing with her grandfather's car, fell back on his old showman shtick of using something pretty to distract what was really going on beneath the audience's very nose. She had gladly fallen for it, mostly because the whole thing with Pike had been just as uncomfortable as it had been for him.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Later that night over dinner, she'd presented him with the key she'd had made on her lunch hour. She hadn't been messing around, apparently.

He took it with heartfelt gratitude, stepped off the edge into the Grand Canyon, used it to open the door to the first home he'd known in twelve years that wasn't rented or rolled around on wheels. Before she could turn on the light switch and see his damp eyes, he'd lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom.

Deflection again, of course, but people didn't change overnight.

Fate, he realized, would have its way with him regardless. If it was going to take this away from him, he would make the most of it while he could.

**A/N: Thanks for reading! I'm excited for next week's episode, and hopefully I'll be inspired to be back with another tag.**


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